


Return to Home

by Apfelessig



Category: Turn (TV 2014), Turn: Washington's Spies
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conflict Resolution, Domesticity, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apfelessig/pseuds/Apfelessig
Summary: Ben knows Caleb's moods, and not all of them are good. When Caleb gets frisky out of the blue, Ben chooses to dig a little deeper.
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Return to Home

Caleb gets like this sometimes. Ravenous. They're on the couch, watching Law & Order reruns, and suddenly Caleb is on him, mouth on his neck, hands on his hair, mumbling filth in-between nips.

Ben is slow to adjust to this new scenario and scrambles to find the remote under his thigh. He mutes the show, craning his neck to see around Caleb to do so. Once it's silent, Caleb practically pins him to the cushions.

It's not that Ben minds. They've always been a searing match, physically, both fluent in this shared language of touch and tongue. But he was less attuned to Caleb's moods when he first started doing it out of the cold, and his hearty enthusiasm for his lover's sudden 'on' moments may have been interpreted as enabling what Ben suspects is an unhealthy way of dealing with unexpected stressors.

"Caleb," he mumbles, around Caleb's lips. "Babe."

Caleb is having none of it, and only pushes Ben harder into the couch, putting his full weight behind each shift, each grind. Ben grabs onto Caleb's head and tries to make eye contact, but Caleb works his mouth down Ben's neck and his hands up Ben's shirt.

"Caleb," Ben insists, a little more sharply, and an exasperated face appears before him.

"What? I'm a little busy here, Ben."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. Trying to go down on my boyfriend. Only he won't stop talking."

His hands are already undoing Ben's jeans and Ben has to grab them to still them.

"I'm serious. What's brought this on?"

A sigh. "Why are you asking?"

"Why am I—Because you're sticking my dick down your throat with barely a hello."

The eye roll is anything but affectionate. "Not like you to complain. Thought you liked it." He nods downward. "Part of you does."

It's hard to keep an authoritative tone when at least one significant part of him agrees with Caleb's course of action. But the fever in Caleb's eyes is one he doesn't see often, and never in good circumstances.

"I mean it," Ben says. "Talk to me."

"Feck's sake," Caleb mutters, heaving off of Ben. "Forget it, then."

"Caleb!"

Ben has to do up his trousers before he stands, at which point Caleb is already unhooking the keys to the flat and looking for his shoes.

Ben crosses his arms. "Are you serious."

"I'm going for a walk."

There's no arguing with him like this, and Ben settles for shaking his head as Caleb goes to leave.

"We're talking about this when you get back," he warns. Caleb closes the door and is gone.

\--

When they first started dating, their friends told them it was either the best idea they'd had or the worst one. It wasn't until Caleb stormed out of their first argument that Ben saw what they meant. That had been months ago, and Ben had paced the flat for twenty minutes before hopping into a car and driving up and down the streets, looking for him. When he'd returned, Caleb had been waiting on the couch, shoulders slumped. He'd apologized before Ben had even taken off his coat.

They weren't the best adjusted people after what they'd been through, either of them. Once things got more serious, Ben and Caleb downloaded and installed a FindYourFriends app. Should things ever get really bad, they'd agreed, they'd use it to track each other. A self-aware safety net, if not a typical one, but it became part of an agreement of trust they had with each other. Never once had they had to use it.

Even so, Ben's finger is itching above the app icon when he hears the door open half an hour later. From the slow sounds of Caleb shuffling off his shoes and hanging up his coat, Ben knows that the storm has passed.

He waits in the kitchen. Caleb walks in and leans against the counter, gaze low.

"I'm an arsehole," he says, finally.

Ben feels the tension in his gut drain. Sweet relief.

"Sometimes," he concedes. "But not this time. We're good."

Caleb nods and Ben knows him well enough to wait.

"Uncle Luke's in hospice," he says, finally. "Got a message from my aunt."

"Shit," Ben says, and means it. He remembers meeting his uncle at a Brewster family barbeque, his first real introduction as Caleb's significant something. A kind man, but frail. His handshake was timid and later Ben helped him onto a Muskoka chair to watch the sun set.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to go see him? I'll come with you."

Caleb shakes his head, then pauses, then shakes his head again.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Ben asks.

Caleb shrugs. Pauses. Nods.

"Okay," Ben says, "settled."

Neither of them move.

Caleb puts his hands on the counter. He raises and drops his shoulders. "Look, Ben. I know it's not how you do things, but..."

Ben waits, eyebrow raised.

"I can't do the talking yet. Just... look, I need you, alright? I just need to feel you."

They've both come a long way, Ben thinks, as he steps forward to close the gap between them. There's no hint of shame in Caleb, even if he still struggles to articulate his needs. And Ben harbours no resentment that this is still how this script goes for them, the break before the healing. It is something they both understand, the need for infinite grace for the way things are now. And busted and bruised though they might both be, grace is something they extend to each other freely.

Ben takes Caleb into his arms and feels him bury himself in his chest. "I'm right here, babe. I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
